


Pareidolia

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Day Dreaming, Dreaming, F/M, Female Masturbation, Lust for Power, Mind fucking, Praise, Thinking, ordering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: Staring at the ceiling at night, the grain in the wood begins to look like a familiar face...
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Pareidolia

Turning restlessly over in your Clergy issue four poster, you begin to wonder what’s preventing you from falling asleep. It’s almost like a cloying spider web of thoughts has settled lazily over your brain, and you can’t quite get to the edge to drift off. Your own imagination has been more active than it was in the past, and you can’t help yourself from imagining all sorts of scenarios about your life in the Clergy. Soon enough you find yourself staring up at the wood paneled ceiling, eyes crossed slightly as your thoughts tumble around in your head like dice.

All of a sudden you feel a small tickle at the back of your brain- not on your scalp or your neck, no… your brain. A small noise of confusion leaves you as your hand flies to the back of your head, at the base of your neck. Small panic alights in your stomach when you think that it could be a bug of some sort- it is Summer, after all. There’s nothing there, and you know for a fact that all of the Cardinal’s rats have been put into their cages for the night. You counted them yourself! 

Your eyes move back to the wooden ceiling, dismissing the tickle as simply a stray hair that managed to feel different than usual. You’re just starting to get comfortable again when your eyes drift over a knot in the wood, and it looks familiar. Two rings, one black and one white in close proximity to each other. Below them, a slash of black and white that resembles lips. Heart beating faster, you keep your eyes trained on the strange shapes in the wood. Was that there before? As soon as you question yourself you feel the slight brush of fingers across your consciousness. A small hissing noise sounds from somewhere in your room, and you strain your ears to hear it properly.

“Sssssorella,” it seems to breathe.

“Papa?” You bring your blankets a little higher up your chest, keenly aware of your blatant nudity underneath them. “Papa, is that you? How did you get into the Sibling’s dorm?” You feel ridiculous, whispering to a clearly empty room. When no answer comes forthright you roll your eyes and hunker back down into your bed, tossing the blanket back down your chest. Ridiculous notion. Of course Papa Emeritus the Third wouldn’t be hiding in your bedchambers, of all places. He’s probably off doing paperwork or whatever Papa’s do. 

You screw your eyes shut tightly, balling your fists over them and pressing until you see stars. Opening your eyes, you wait for your vision to clear before looking at the wood grained ceiling once more. The face is still there, and even more prominent. Something about the idea of Papa looking down at you in your bed, in the nude, has your thoughts turning to the last time the two of you were together. His chambers are always unnaturally warm and you find yourself flushing at the thought of how warm your skin was as he pressed against you, his lips finding your-

“Bella~~,” the voice whispers to you again. This time, rather than being unnerved, you find yourself oddly aroused at the thought that he’s able to watch you. Your eyes flick to the window quickly- bolted and shuttered. There’s no way that these whispers are the wind or a mischievous Sibling of yours. Training your eyes back to the face in the ceiling you trail a hand down your midsection, and thrust your hips slightly.

“Papa, is that you? Do you want to watch me remember how your lips felt on me? How it felt when you came inside my body and delivered the sacrament? Oh, Papa…” Your hips are moving against your own hand as you tease yourself, finger dipping through your folds. You’re surprised at how wet you already are, but something about Papa seemed to have that effect. “Do you want to watch me finger myself and pretend it’s your cock, my Papa?” 

You know that everything you’re saying is purely an act but you still can’t help that warm flush across your chest as you make the first contact with your clit- that shocking burst of pleasure that zaps up your back and makes your brain feel heady. Slowly you glide your fingers through your lips, smearing your slick across yourself and canting your hips upwards into the palm of your hand with a groan. 

“Ssssister, yes~~”, the voice calls to you. At this point you’re unsure if you’ve made the entire thing up in your head or not, but the voice is certainly helping you to urge things along. As you moan softly to yourself the voice seems to come through clearer. “Tell me, Sister…what do you…desire…” Perhaps your brain is becoming more and more imaginative in your years spent here at the Clergy. Nonetheless, you’re happy to oblige your daydreamed voice. 

“Papa, I only want you again. To fill me and take me completely, to make me your pet Sibling. Give me all of the things you promised to me and more, when you had me on the altar in your chambers.” You slide one slick finger inside of yourself and find your pleasure center easily- you’re no stranger to your own body, after all. A sharp, loud moan comes from your throat before you can muffle yourself as you twist on the bed, the increase in pleasure clouding your mind. 

“Si, sorella.” The voice is coming through perfectly audible now, somehow whispering into the spot in the back of your mind that your own thoughts usually occupy. Something about it feels strangely intimate and only increases your arousal. “You want the power, yes? The power that your Papa has?” A moment passes in which the only sounds are your gasping and twisting in the sheets as you continue to tease yourself, your own slickness easing the glide for two of your fingers. “Answer your Papa, Sister. Now.” There’s a feeling of power behind the words and you feel compelled to answer him, speaking into the empty room.

“Yes, Papa! Yes! I want power. I want it all.” You bring your other hand to cup your breast, quickly teasing the nipple between your fingers and squeezing roughly in the fervor of your self pleasure. “I want people to cower in… in front of me. Fuck, Papa!” You cry out as your toes curl, lost in the depths of your climax. When your eyes focus again you train your gaze on the knot in the wood- the face seems to be smiling.

“Tell me more, sorella. Tell me all that it is that you desire. Sathanas will make it so. I will make it so.” Papa’s voice croons to you from somewhere in your subconscious mind, but you’re too far gone to consider how strange it is. You merely accept it as you continue speaking to him, your hand urging you forward to a second climax.

“I want them to kneel to me, Papa. Let me…let me lead with you. Make me your Prime Mover. Let me…let me give you…give you progeny. I want to wield the power, I want to wear–”

“The crown,” he finishes for you, a dark laugh accompanying his words. “Cum for me, my beautiful pet. Cum to the sound of your Papa’s voice.” 

With this, you tip yourself over the edge, the taut rubber-band in your stomach snapping as you cum hard, your thighs and arms shaking from the feeling. Dimly, from somewhere in the empty space above you you can hear his laughter- dark, and promising. You lay on your bed, sheets thrown to the floor as you try to control your breathing. Your mind swirls with the implications of what you’ve said and heard, and your skin prickles with gooseflesh as the sweat on your body cools. Gathering your bedsheets back onto your body, you flick your eyes back to the ceiling.

The figure in the wood is gone. 

The next morning, you will awaken to a note under your door that simply says “tonight, 3 am”. 

But for now, you sleep, dreams riddled with promises of power beyond your comprehension.


End file.
